Page 12 of Knox
Knox’s own gold championship buckle hung in his office back at the ranch.
“Ouch,” Rafe said, making a face as he watched the rider limp off the dirt.
A group of riders on horses came out, riding bareback, doing tricks.
“Can I do that, Daddy?”
Knox looked down to where Victoria, her dark hair a mess of curls, pressed her hands on the glass.
Rafe crouched next to her, drew her into his embrace, between his knees. “Someday, Tori. But wouldn’t you rather run barrels?”
She looked up at Rafe. “I want to ride bulls, like you, Daddy.”
Knox laughed as Rafe made a face, glancing over his shoulder at his wife.
“That’s what you get for being a champion,” Knox said, the closest he could come to admitting hero worship. But what he wouldn’t give for a son or daughter to look at him like that. A wife to grin at him, a twinkle in her pretty eyes.
He was so tired of standing on the sidelines of his life, feeling as if all his chances had passed him by. Tired of being the responsible one who did thingsrightwhile others reached for their dreams.
Rafe got up as Kitty came up to him and slid her arm around his broad shoulders. “You sure you don’t want to stick around for the concert? It’s right here—in the back of the coliseum. The Yankee Belles are up-and-coming. And all very pretty.” She winked.
Knox gave her a polite smile.
“And in the meantime, I’ll talk you into joining the NBR-X as our Director of Livestock,” Rafe said.
Knox looked at him. “What?”
“You have an eye for good breeding, Knox. You’re developing a reputation in the business for your ability to find the right sires, for pairing them with the right cows. Five of your ranch’s issues have gone on to the PBR finals, and if your new bulls are anything like Hot Pete, then I think they’ll sell for top dollar. I’d like to see you bring that talent to NBR-X’s selection of bulls.”
Really?
The announcer listed off the winners, and the riders came out, waving their hats, collecting their applause. Knox was turning away when the ad for the upcoming concert flashed across the jumbotron.
He stilled, staring at it. Three girls standing, two blondes flanking the center brunette, who drew her straw cowboy hat down with one finger, staring into the screen. Her lips curved in a half smile, a twinkle in those pale blue eyes, and his heart stuttered.
Kelsey?
Except his Kelsey hadn’t been the curvy, show-stopping country star with long black lashes and a look on her face that made his mouth a little dry. She’d been a girl from the Midwest who liked cheese curds and kissed him on the cheek and made him feel like her protector.
I’m just here with a couple girlfriends for the weekend.
The woman on the screen could have a lineup of cowboys offering up their hearts, not to mention their muscles, to keep her safe.
He didn’t know what to think, what to say. But he couldn’t unglue his gaze from the jumbo screen.
“That’s the Yankee Belles,” Katherine said quietly.
He looked at her, and she smiled, something glinting in her eyes. “You sure you don’t want those backstage passes?”
Kelsey liked this version of herself. Too much, maybe, but the woman who looked back at her from the glimmering lights of the makeup mirror was not only beautiful, sexy, and strong, but she possessed a charisma and poise that Kelsey wanted to cling to.
Onstage, Kelsey became the person she wanted to be offstage.
And tonight, she would rock it.
“Feathers?” The question, or rather, criticism came from Dixie Erikson, their fiddle player, who leaned over her shoulder and tugged on the duo of feathers fastened to Kelsey’s long brown hair.
“You should talk—is that a tiara?” She turned, got a closer look at the glittery headband in the blonde’s hair. Willowy and beautiful, Dixie usually turned heads first when she walked into a room, her Viking heritage in her blue eyes and long, braided hair. It was her family whom Kelsey had lived with back in high school, her family of country singers who had stirred Kelsey’s love of music. She wore a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and black cowboy boots.